Welcome to the Frank Spot

Post 1.0 - The Real Stuff

Welcome to my blog, and welcome to my first "real" post. As prologue, let me explain why I count this as my first post when it isn't the first thing I've posted here. (My apologies to those of you who already know this from reading that other post!) I wrote a fairly prodigious (read: really long) entry as I was building this site, but disqualified it as Post 1.0 for its lack of relevancy and substance. It didn't add anything to the collective dialogue — it was just one man's first journey into the blogosphere. I wanted my first "real" post to explain what you'll find here. Who I am. What I want. That's why this post counts: it opens the world to the ideas behind the site. The ideas behind me.

My name is Frank. And I'm glad you're here.

The Philosophy of The Frank Spot

Warning: Dangerous waters ahead. Expert swimmers only beyond this point. (In other words: pretentious, contentious, and wordy — just like me!)

There's a question that troubles me daily: How do we define ourselves?

I know it's deep and existential — and perhaps not what many of you were expecting — but it's a question that sets the tone for much of this blog. Let me expand the question: What do we see when we look in the mirror, or watch others move through their day? How do we feel about what we see? What facets of a person do we use to summarize him? How do we DEFINE anyone?

I started by saying the question troubles me. In fact, it plagues me. It fills many sleepless nights with itself, and prods me at the worst possible moments. And not because I'm struggling to define myself. But because I RESIST definition.

Have I lost you? Sorry. Try this:

A man is defined not by any single deed, word, thought, or preference, but by the accumulated effect of his interactions with the world.


Got it? Read it again. This single statement, whether you regard it as wry, witty, self-indulgent, pretentious, or deep, says a lot about me and how I see the world. It functions both as a philosophical text byte — which you can feel free to pass along, with proper credit — and a watchcry for my daily life: don't try to define others in the passion of a moment. Resist when others define and dismiss you. Realize that there is more to any person than can be discovered quickly, or accidentally, or through any third-party retelling. Sadly, it's a lesson few people ever learn.

Don't believe me? Ask someone about George W. Bush. Or Hillary Clinton. Or Tom Cruise. Or Michael Jackson.

As soon as the question leaves your lips, a summary will be ready to fly. It'll probably be honest, which is good; negative, which could be valid; and rooted in very little substance. Unless you ask someone who knows the person intimately, the entirety of his or her summary will be based on...well...almost nothing. Most people have no personal experience with these figures, other than that which is manufactured for them, overheard by them, or spoon fed to them. Even if they've "researched" the person — by which I mean, Googled for recent articles, read blog entries, scanned the supermarket tabloids — they are still largely unenlightened. The very process is flawed. How much can be gleaned without real interaction, and less than a lifetime of it? Did you walk away from your last trip to the store confident that the clerks understood you? Did your short time in their presence constitute an accurate telling of who you are as a person? Can you really be measured in passing?

Of course not. That's my point. No one can. But the process starts anyway. A few moments with CNN, and three data points from the internet, makes John Smith feel properly armed to characterize anyone. It doesn't matter that he's violating a core belief about his own complexity. He condenses what he's seen into a solid, practical block. Something he can defend with the self-righteous airs of someone "in-the-know." A definition. And it's not something we reserve for the famous; we do it with just about everyone.

In truth, definitions don't make our lives any easier. They are convenient, but not beneficial. People are difficult to understand: they have different faiths, cultures, and ideologies; they do things we wouldn't, and feel things we can't. Definitions can't bridge that gap. They are roadblocks to dialogue. They create new problems. And we respond with more definitions. It's a self-sustaining cycle of diminishing returns and growing strife.

But there is a way to break it: Stop.

Step away from the tendency to make easy, largely uninformed decisions about people. Take a moment to reconsider those folks you've already defined, and effectively closed your mind about. Think about how much information you used when you wrote your summary of any given person: where it came from; how accurate it was; how your emotions might have colored it. Be willing to accept that your definition might be as flawed as the process you used to build it. If you can do that, you may just be ready to do a little more.

Now before I go any further, let me answer two simple, but important, questions:

Why Blog? Why Now?

I talk a lot. To those of you who know me, this is no surprise. For those of you who will get to know me through this blog, it will become apparent in time (if it hasn't already). But I don't just talk a lot. I listen a lot. And I spend twice as much time evaluating what I hear as I do listening or talking. This is possible mostly because I've spent more than 20 years as a chronic insomniac. That's given me quite a bit of time to contemplate myself and my world. And to contemplate you.

That's right. You heard me. I contemplate YOU: what you do and say; how you walk, talk, and drive; whether you know how to use spell check; if you type in ALL CAPS; if you have any bad habits; if you don't understand the rules of polite society; if you're a loudmouth or an ass; or if you just don't put much thought into your ideas, opinions and beliefs. Now, some of you wags may suggest that this passage connotes blatant hypocrisy; as if I'm defining people by those single traits, while railing against that sin in my blog. If you think that, you're dead wrong. I can notice traits without using them to define the whole person. And you should too. So before you get all huffy and click "Next BLOG," please be assured that I subject myself to similar scrutiny every moment of every day. I strive to be better tomorrow than I am today. I believe some others do too. But there's a twist.

Until now, I've been talking only about how we define ourselves. In reality, that's only half the issue. We define everything we see. Not just people, but world events, politics, issues of faith and humanity, crime and punishment, the price of peas in Peoria. It's become habitual, or maybe even genetic. At some point in our collective evolution, we decided that life — meaning EVERYTHING — needed to be categorized, summarized, and compartmentalized. At some point, we decided we didn't have the time, capacity, need, or desire to do anything else. We decided it was all right to read the dust jacket instead of the book, and patted ourselves on the back for how insightful the dust jacket had made us. We felt clever for the mental energy we'd saved, and the time we hadn't wasted digging for something more. And unfortunately, we started a dangerous tide of deliberate ignorance that washed us into a world of misery, distrust, and hate.

Now let's go back to the original question — how do we define ourselves? — and read it this way: how do we define anything, and is it bad that we do? If you've been reading along, you know my opinion: we mostly define things with incomplete (and often insignificant) data, then move to action based on these flimsy pretexts. If I'm right, then even our basic judgment is suspect, and that's bad. The solution is to break away from the pat definitions you use for people. If you can do that, you might be able to break free of the definitions you use for everything else. And there, my friends, lies progress.

So, again: Why create this blog, and why now?

As I mentioned above, I like to talk — a lot. And not just about safe things. I start conversations about difficult topics — issues of the day, personal beliefs, faith, politics, humanity, inhumanity. I like to see how others think, and see how their ideas can affect my own. I like to be challenged, and I like to challenge others.

Before I go on, let me re-frame the definition problem: people are often held prisoner by their beliefs, no matter how valid they are, or from whence they came. Perhaps it's due to time constraints, lack of energy, or lack of ambition. Perhaps they're blind to their own natures. Perhaps they just suffer from know-it-all-itis. No matter what the cause, I meet people every day who just don't put much thought or effort into who they are, or what they believe. They read blankly from their definition files, and disregard anything that clashes with the summaries they've intoned. If they decide to know me, I feel obligated to challenge them. Not specifically what they believe, but why they believe it. I challenge the idea that they've really considered all the facts, and that they can express them effectively. I challenge them to reopen closed files and evaluate new data. Basically, I challenge them to challenge themselves.

How does this answer those two questions? I had thought about blogging many times, but I had always discounted it. I didn't know what to say, couldn't find the time, didn't see the point. For whatever reason, it just wasn't the right thing for me. Then I got a new job in a different city.

Living in Rochester and working in Buffalo means a long daily commute: three hours a day in good traffic conditions. But, I'm lucky enough to share the car with two other deep thinkers, people rare in their willingness to explore ideas and beliefs that conflict with their own. Instead of riding in silence, or mindlessly bopping along to the tunes of the day, we spend most of our time in respectful, good-natured debate. We explore many tough issues — including the ones you're never supposed to talk about around the holiday table — and always end the ride knowing a little more than we did when we began, even if we still disagree. After one particularly spirited debate, the idea of a Frank blog came to mind like a shot: maybe people outside the car would appreciate some intelligent discourse about topics that make many people nervous. Maybe I was the guy to provide it. Ultimately, I was motivated by the drive. This blog is an aborning child of every deep conversation I've ever had, and every spirited debate. The spark that gave it life was Interstate 90.

(It's important to remember that I don't restrict my deep conversations to long car rides. I challenge everyone I know, as often as I can. Almost every visit with friends includes some quality discussion time. An evening at my house (the real Frank Spot) is like a salon of old — a roundtable of intelligent, open-minded people discussing important topics of the day. Lots of fun, and often a big headache...)

Now let's talk about what you'll find here.

About: The Frank Spot

If you're still reading, it's probably because I haven't told you enough about what you'll find in this blog. I've been busy setting a complex stage for what could be a contentious, anger-inducing, brawl as easily as it can be intelligent discourse. I'm sorry about that. I wanted to weed out the people my words couldn't reach before I delved too deeply into the content. Now that you're here, let's get to it.

The Frank Spot is mainly about ideas. It's about sharing them as a way to challenge them. As you've probably grokked, I decry the entire definition framework — it's easy, selfish, and petty; it divorces us from our better nature, makes us lazy, angry, sometime hateful. It spills out of us in little passive-aggressive comments, and big, overt displays of malevolence. It prevents us from evolving. So what is The Frank Spot? It's a rebellion against the dullness and crime of preconceived notions and everyday thought. It's my plea: lets break the cycle of easy answers and the bad judgment they spawn, and reconsider everything we've already dismissed. Let's look at ourselves and each other, and really consider what we see. Let's stop thinking we know more about everything than we do.

Why Should You Read My Blog?

At this point, unless you know me and enjoy my frequent rants, you're probably asking yourself why you should spend any time with The Frank Spot. Well, maybe you shouldn't. But you can. Here's why I think you might want to: the simple act of sharing ideas is the foundation of growth. For all of us. It really doesn't matter where those ideas come from, or if they're good ones or bad ones. The process — the act of talking, listening, and evaluating — is what's important. Don't be carved in stone. Don't hide behind what you already know. Join me in this frank spot and take a walk through some new ideas, or at least look at old ideas through someone else's lenses.

The Lighter Side (Or: What About Some Fun Stuff?)

So you're probably wondering: is this what every post will be like? Pretentious, aggressive, a little insulting? Undermining core belief structures? In a word: No.

Although I intend to devote a lot of time to the "core issues" of humanity, philosophy, politics, et al, I'll also be blogging about mundane and funny things: my job; the crazy thing that happened on the way to Wegman's; movies I've liked or hated; creative writing. I'll even be posting some recipes for those of you who cook (and, incidentally, for those of you who don't...). So, even though the site is built on a framework of deep thought and potential conflict, there will be plenty of lighter content. If you don't believe me, you'll just have to check back and see.

In Closing: a Postscript

I'm sure a few of you are still wondering: Why The Frank Spot? What's with the eponymous blog name? Is he that arrogant? Well, probably. But that's not why I picked it . I've lived my whole life with a name that's a gainfully employed adjective: to be frank is to be candid, up-front, honest; direct and unreserved in speech; straightforward and sincere without inhibition or subterfuge; direct and undisguised. I've always tried to live up to that, and I wanted my blog to do the same. I wanted a place where I could be myself, and be candid about everything. I wanted a place where Frank could be frank. Which reminds me:

Don't just read The Frank Spot. Pass my posts around. Use my essays as opportunities to share your own beliefs, and explore others'. Jump in with both feet: when you're done reading, don't just mutter to yourself and move on. Click the comments link and start typing. I don't care if you agree with me or not— if you share a little, we all win a little. If you share a lot....well...you get the idea.

So that's it. I've introduced The Frank Spot — in about a million words! I hope you'll come back to read the next million.

Peace.

The Agony and the Ecstasy - Creating My Blog

Blogging from the Ground Up - Post 0.5

Welcome to my blog. Before you start reading — something I hope you'll stay and do — I have to point out that the Frank Spot is still just a touch under construction So even though you're reading this, my first blog entry, you should know that it isn't my "official" first entry. That's coming shortly.

"What the heck is he talking about?" I don't know which one of you said it, or if you used more invectives, but I definitely heard it...in advance...while typing. (Could blogs be windows into the future? Find out in a future blog!) No, no. Let me explain:

I've been working to create my blog for about three weeks now. And it occurred to me that I could create an "unofficial" blog entry that gives me content to play with as I build, AND documents my odyssey from ignorant non-blogger (read: member of the unwashed masses) to enlightened blog guru. (Okay: maybe "guru" is a little boastful, but it's my blog, and I'll boast if I like.) I've decided to make it "unofficial" because I'm not sure I want to count this as my first real entry. There's something so blasé and unimaginative (not to mention dizzyingly self-referential) in blogging about blogging, no matter how amusing the readers will find my frustrating journey.

No — ultimately, I want my first "real" blog entry to be about something important. Something provocative. Something that bites into the social or political problems that are the meals of the modern news media. As I mention in my sidebar, I want to be relevant. So in short, blogging about starting my first blog ain't gonna cut it. Therefore:

Welcome to Post 0.5 (or: Creating a Blog Sounded So Easy, But Really Wasn't)

Finding the Right Site

Once I decided to start a blog, I had few decisions to make. The first, most basic one: what blog tool/site to use. I took a casual stroll through the myriad world of blogging products, and started gathering a list of things I liked. It took more than a week to examine the rich feature set that powered the blogosphere, but I came away from the analysis with a fairly simple list of what I wanted:

  • Hosted — Yes, I'm a web guy, but I don't have my own server, and didn't feel like building one to host myself.
  • Free — I wasn't sure I'd like it or stick with it, so this was key.
  • Flexible — I like to have a lot of control, so I wanted something that gave me control over almost everything: design, scripts, widgets, etc.
  • Well-known — a site that people are using a lot; so I can get my thoughts out to a large audience.
  • Nice design — a site that looks nice when you get to it, not just when you're on a blog. Not too ad-heavy, not too cluttered/busy, not loud and obnoxious.
  • Cool templates to pick from — I knew I'd start with a basic template and go from there, but why not start with a cool one so I don't have to hate my blog while I'm building it.
  • A name that's easy to type and say — Sorry Aeonity; not only am I still not sure how to say your name, but most people have dropped the "a" from Aeon. That means I'd have to stop and spell you every time I tell someone where to find my blog. Not intuitive at all...
Now that my requirements were in hand, I was ready to go back and make a decision. I started Googling again, and clicked every "demo" and "tour" link I found. I asked friends who blogged what they thought of sites X, Y, and Z. And I read a hundred reviews. I had a short list in about a week, but then I was stuck: I couldn't make a final decision because I couldn't see behind the login screen. No matter how good the marketing was, there were questions I just couldn't answer. It was quite a pickle. Ultimately, I realized I'd have bite the bullet: start building blogs from my short list, and decide which one really met my needs. My first stop: WordPress.

The domain I wanted was available: www.frankspot.wordpress.com. I grabbed it, and started building my first prototype. I picked a template, selected my widgets and add-ons, added a header image and stylized logo, greeked up some text, and published. It looked cool, but not quite right. The template I picked was left-justified, and it looked fine in the little preview window. But full screen, it looked — well — wonky. I went behind the scenes to change it, and quickly found that I couldn't tweak the CSS without adding some coin to the mix. In fact, I was pretty hobbled in the customization area, if I wanted to keep my wallet closed. There were many great features: it was fast, and slick, and easy to use, and had brand recognition. But, the fact that they'd hidden the CSS from non-paying customers irked me, and not just a little. So, I left my greeked WordPress blog where it was (pushed all the way to the left!) and moved on to Blogger (which, incidentally, one of my carpool buddies recommended).

New host, new URL, new attempt. I went back to the drawing board. I browsed through templates, add-ons, etc., and the Blogger iteration of The Frank Spot was poised to take shape.

The Template and Widget Quagmire (Or: How Hard Can it Be When You Have Lots of Choices?)

Picking a template for WordPress was a relatively short process: they offered a few dozen standard (read: free) templates, some of which were pretty good. I could also upload a third-party template from one of the many gifted designers in the blogosphere. But, just like the ability to customize the CSS, use of a third-party template required the tacit approval of my wallet. And my wallet wasn't interested. "Blog free or die," it said crisply from my nightstand. "Maybe Blogger has more free templates."

Indeed. Through its interface, Blogger has about the same number of templates as WordPress. Sharp and easy to understand, if a little understated. But Blogger supports pretty much any third-party template you can find, or any template you care to build. Three seconds with Google showed me an amazing number of sites devoted to Blogger templates. For every cool WordPress template out there, there were at least two cool Blogger templates. In fact, there were almost too many.

"Too many?" you ask, pursing your lips and raising one eyebrow. "Yes," I say confidently. "Too many." So many, that I wasted an entire day downloading, unzipping, and testing templates. Some were wrong for one reason, some were wrong for another reason. Some were wrong because I was just too picky. It was in the wee hours of the next morning that I found one that seemed to have the most promise: iTheme. Nice look, good color and backgrounds, and the ability to open/close and reorder the side widgets. I locked it in place with all defaults intact, pasted my greeked text from WordPress, and took the second iteration of my blog online.

"Much better," said my wallet. "And without any involvement from me." I offered a snarky smile, put something heavy on top of my wallet, and went to bed.

The next morning, it was time to figure out which widgets I wanted. The template came with four, but I figured there'd be more I'd like. I'd seen enough blogs during my research to know I wanted things like a calendar for my archives, a section about me, a list of tags, etc. Enter the next set of problems.

First off, the default recent comments widget didn't really work. Comments weren't showing up as expected, and when they did, they were kind of ugly. I remembered some forum discussion about that particular widget not working properly in iTheme, and several bloggers had built their own replacements. I tried a few of them out, and finally landed on a pretty good one by Hackosphere. I plugged it in, it worked, and I was happy. I'd worry about customizing it later.

Next up: an "About" section...and a tremendous headache.
In addition to all the canned widgets it offers, Blogger also has a basic HTML/JavaScript widget, that lets you provide your own code. As a web guy, I was confident I could build a section in one flurry of typing, drop it in the page, and be done. Nothing is ever that easy.

I inserted my clever text, floated it around a Simpsons avatar of myself, and published. I previewed the page in FireFox and it looked great. I went to IE6, and "Where the heck is my text? Why is there a blank section?" I checked my code, refreshed my browser cache, chewed my lower lip, and then tried to move the widget. I was shocked to see that when the widget detached from the page (and became partly transparent) my picture and text were actually there — hiding behind the layer. Such a curious thing. I was even more shocked when I tried to move it in FF and the widget moved WITHOUT the content. Could my code have been that wrong? I really didn't think so.

I opened the widget, parsed the code, and decided to try a little more structure — I had wrongly presumed that the widget brought enough structure with it. I built a quick CSS (loaded on googlepages) and cut in some styled DIVs and Spans. In FF, all was well, and the content moved with the widget. In IE, the text was still lost in the background. I pondered for several minutes before I remembered some quirkiness I had seen on another project. I went to the CSS, and specified a 100% width on the container DIV. Bang! Now my content was visible in both browsers. I thought I was done.

I opened the site up to a few others, and the next problem appeared: if you collapsed or resized any of the widgets, the page would break when you reloaded it. The wrong widgets would be collapsed, and the "About" content would be hanging out alone UNDER its empty widget. Somehow, my static HTML text was wrecking havoc with the widget code. If I took it out, the page was fine. Back in, and broken. Again, most annoying. I searched the web, posted questions on template forums, pored over help files, but to no avail. I had to fix it myself.

Flash forward a few days. The problem rattled around in the back of my brain while I concentrated on other stuff. When I went back with fresh eyes, I decided to dissect my first solution. I wondered if the surrounding DIV was somehow to blame. I changed it to a SPAN, and bam! the blog worked perfectly in FF. Collapsing, expanding, moving — all fine. In IE, no more content. It was back behind the widget. Ignoring the snickers coming from my flattened wallet, I tried combining my solutions. I added a styled DIV (with 100% width) just inside the outer SPAN tags, and republished. FF? Still fine. IE? Hooray! It's there! But man, was I pooped. And confounded. What a weird (and completely incorrect!) way to build that content. (DIV tags don't go inside SPAN tags...) I decided I needed to document that experience in my blog...

What Happened to the Calendar Widget (Or: This is the Longest Post About Nothing in History)

Those of you paying close attention may remember that I mentioned an archive calendar widget. There's nothing wrong with the flat folder list archive that came with the template; I just liked the calendar look, and wanted to have one. I did a little searching, and found a custom archive widget that seemed a good fit for my blog. I downloaded it, unzipped it, and let out a long slow breath — with just a hint of a low, sliding whistle. There were many nested folders and some densely packed instructions in the unzipped folder. I had just lost three days fighting with my 40-word "About" widget, and the thought of this next installation sucked the energy out of me. In short: I didn't have the heart to install it. I saved it, and may get to it eventually, but for now, my readers will have to make due with the default.

WordPress vs. Blogger: Who Won?

I'm not sure when it happened — or even why, given the template and widget troubles I had with the site — but Blogger became the de facto winner of this contest. Although I still liked everything WordPress had to offer, I had invested far too much time into Blogger to give it up. I didn't realize I felt that way until I had written much of this 0.5 entry. I had fully intended to cross post this entry there so I could do a 1:1 comparison, but the idea started seeming silly. And despite the length of this entry, I'm not a man with an abundance of free time. So, Blogger it is...for now.

Final Thoughts (Or: OMG! What More Can He Have to Say?)

As I close this unofficial first entry, there are a still a number of challenges in front of me. In addition to wanting to insert a sub-title/subheading under the post title (without messing up the look and feel of the page), and change some of the default CSS, I haven't figured out how to remove deleted posts from the archive list, or comments about a deleted post from the comments list. It seemed pretty obvious to me that if you deleted a post, the archive entry and all associated comments would go with it. Clearly, I missed something along the way. I have a few last-ditch (and even drastic) things to try, and I may have to settle. But The Frank Spot, now firmly in place on Blogger, is open for business.

I hope to see you here.